To Feel So Much
by sophiedoodle
Summary: Chakotay visits Kathryn after she returns from being assimilated by the Borg. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Sickbay was deserted when Chakotay finally made it down to see her. The battle with the Borg ship had caused extensive damage to all of Voyager's systems, and he had spent countless hours organizing repair teams and schedules, trying to balance available personnel with the torn ship's limited resources. His head ached, and he had been trying to ignore the slight trembling of his body that only worsened as the day wore on. He was fatigued, both physically and emotionally, but there was more. He wanted to see her.

He _needed_ to see her.

The lights had been dimmed, and the three patients were sleeping peacefully. Kathryn's bed was the closest to the door, and he walked swiftly over to her, his eyes taking in the minutest detail of the woman lying quietly there. Her face was so pale she almost appeared ghostly, lips colorless against ashen skin. Her brilliant auburn hair hung limp and lifeless.

He pulled a chair up to the edge of her bed and sat down, his thoughts turning to the day she had gone over to the Borg. He had watched her leave for dangerous encounters before. Heck, he had accompanied her on many of them. He had come too close to losing her countless times over the years. She had even died in his arms on that planet after the shuttle crash.

But never before had he watched her walk off the bridge into a mission that was almost certain death.

And when she had reached out to hold his hand on the bridge—her fear finally penetrating even her consummate captain's mask—it took everything in him not to lock her in the brig until she regained her senses and called it all off. Earlier that day in her Ready Room, he had begged her not to go. _Begged her_. He didn't know if he had ever begged for anything in his life, but she had brought him to it. Part of him hated her for it, hated that she made him feel _so much_.

There were some moments when it was just too much for him to bear.

Without warning, the tears came. For a moment, he was surprised by the harsh sound in the still room until he realized it was him, the agony of his soul given breath to speak its sorrow aloud. He tried to stop the onslaught, but it flooded right past his best intentions, and he finally decided that perhaps it was best just to let it out. She was sleeping and would never know how much she had grieved his soul. He buried his face in his hands and let himself sob.

When he heard her voice, it seemed to merely flow with his own wildly coursing thoughts, and it was several seconds before he realized that she had softly spoken his name.

"Chakotay," she whispered again. He looked up into her eyes and didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he finally said hoarsely. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Chakotay, come here." Her voice was soft. She held her arms out to him, but he hesitated, not knowing how much discomfort she was still experiencing. The last thing he wanted to do was increase her pain with his.

"Please." The single, pleading word pierced his heart, and he moved closer. She reached out and pulled his face down to her chest, cradling his head in her arms. She stroked his hair tenderly, endlessly. When she finally moved to gently trace his tattoo, his breath caught in his throat, and he moaned, a sound caught somewhere between pain and joy.

He heard Kathryn catch her breath and tighten her embrace. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'm right here. I'm fine."

The words detonated in his heart, and he simply exploded.

"No, you are _not _fine!" he yelled, yanking himself from Kathryn's arms and slamming his chair backwards. He stood, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides. "You were assimilated by the Borg! Nothing about that is _fine_, Kathryn!" Sobs tore from his chest, and he no longer cared about being quiet or about anything but telling her—for once—exactly how he felt.

"Chakotay," she murmured, struggling to sit up, her eyes guilt-filled. But he shook his head, attempting to steady his breathing and failing, still choking on his emotions.

He looked steadily into her eyes, and when he spoke, his words were barely audible.

"I hate you for doing this to me, Kathryn," he said, not wanting to hurt her but saying the words anyway.

He stepped back, his hand over his mouth, and then half-ran out the doors of Sickbay.

She flinched but her whispered words were calm. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 2

Chakotay lay sprawled across his bed, staring up morosely at the plain gray ceiling. Somehow its lack of aesthetics reminded him frustratingly of their shelter on New Earth, and he angrily wiped a hand across his face. Why did everything have to remind him of her?

He wished he could stop loving her the way he did. But it was too late. She had already consumed his heart to the point that it no longer beat on his command alone. It was like trying to extinguish a wildfire. He built up the banks of earth, but she simply blazed right through his firewalls.

He could move on. He was fairly certain he could kindle a relationship with someone else on the ship. Something simple and uncomplicated by these raging and contradictory emotions. But in the end, what would be the point? His heart was not his for the giving, and he was not the kind of man who could settle for anything less.

He sighed. It seemed like hours since he had left her in Sickbay, hours that he had spent trying to fall asleep. Gazing at the ceiling. _Thinking nonstop of Kathryn._ Indulging spiteful satisfaction at having expressed himself with no reserve. Berating himself for the cruelty of his parting words.

And wondering endlessly. What was she doing right now? Had she fallen back asleep when he left? Had she been angry with him? Hurt? Indifferent? Had she cried? What was she feeling right now? Was she too staring up at the ceiling, thinking of him?

It mattered far too much to him, and this only increased his resentment.

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay." His commbadge chirped, and he tapped a reluctant hand to it.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Commander, I was wondering if you could come down to Sickbay."

"Is there a problem, Doctor? Is the away team all right?" Chakotay grimaced at his own phrasing. _Away Team_, the ultimate misnomer in this situation. That was not exactly how he would describe his three friends who had willingly allowed themselves to be assimilated by the Borg. Perhaps more like exchange students, he thought bitterly. Their lives in exchange for…what?

The Doctor's next words cut into his cynical musings. "The Away Team is…fine," the Doctor said hesitantly. "But I am having…difficulty…with the Captain. I was hoping you could come talk some sense into her. She tends to listen to you more than anyone else on the crew. And I would hate to have to relieve her of duty due to mental instability." Chakotay heard Kathryn's angry voice protesting in the background, and he sighed. He no longer had to wonder what she was doing.

"What seems to be the 'difficulty,' Doctor?"

"The Captain is quite insistent on returning to her quarters. In my professional judgment, she needs to remain in Sickbay for at least another twenty-four hours so that I can monitor her condition. Her health is still very fragile. Her body needs time and rest to heal. She was just assimilated by the Borg, and-"

"I _know_ that, Doctor," Chakotay interrupted coldly. "And I trust you to deal with the Captain however you see fit. Chakotay out!" He slammed his hand onto his chest, effectively cutting off the communications signal. Then he ripped the commbadge from his uniform and hurled it across the room. It made a faint tinkling noise as it hit—and probably broke—something glass on the other side. Perfect—it was the frame on his dresser that held his favorite picture of Kathryn from New Earth. She had fallen asleep at the kitchen table with a PADD in one hand and a cold cup of coffee in the other. She probably would have thrown a fit if she knew he had snapped the holoimage of that unflattering position. But to him, she was beautiful, and the picture only spoke of the essence of _her_.

And now it was shattered.

Maybe irreparable.

Just like him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 3

Barely three days later, Chakotay was sitting in his chair on the bridge when the turbolift doors opened behind him, and he heard Ensign Kim speak.

"Captain on the bridge," Harry announced, his voice almost squeaky with barely contained joy. As one, the bridge officers rose and turned to acknowledge Captain Janeway who greeted them with her familiar half-smile and a nod of her head. The Doctor had argued with her relentlessly about returning to her quarters and then about returning to duty, but, in the end, he had eventually yielded to her stubbornness, refusing for some inexplicable reason to take the ultimate step of relieving her. She looked tremendously different from that night in Sickbay. There was a hint of color in her cheeks, her eyes were once again bright and inquisitive, and her hair swung bouncily around her face as she walked, alternately hitting her cheeks and flipping back. Yes, despite the fact that she was still painfully thin and that there was a somewhat pinched look to her lips, she looked basically as she always did. She looked like the indomitable, self-confident, intrepid Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager. She looked ready to take on the next anomaly that popped onscreen or to do battle with the latest hostile alien race of the Delta Quadrant.

Chakotay sat down and averted his head. She walked jauntily to her chair and settled herself in, turning to him with her heart-stopping smile.

"Good morning, Commander. It's good to see you." Her voice was formal, but there was something new in it—a kind of softness, a barely repressed _something_. And she was still gazing at him in anticipation, perhaps expecting him to be as happy to see her as she was to see him.

"Captain," he said flatly, continuing to gaze at the calculations he was idly inputting onto the console in front of him. There was a moment of dead silence on the bridge. He could feel the entire bridge crew carefully taking in and analyzing the interaction that had just occurred between the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kathryn's smile vanish as if it had been suddenly transported, and the gleam in her eyes darkened. She was quiet for several long moments before she spoke again.

"Do you have anything new to report regarding repairs to the ship, Commander?" Her voice was even and cold.

"I will have updates within the hour, Captain." He still refused to look at her. He knew if he did he would break down. He had to stop her from destroying him any more than she already had. He had to take his heart back. Even if it meant hurting her in the process. She would get over it—she always did, she always managed to carry on without him. She carried on with her own ideas, her own plans without his approval and often even in the face of his blatant _disapproval_. And next time she entertained some idiotic plan to get herself killed, he wasn't going to be the one standing in her way.

He would never beg her for anything again.

There was virtually complete silence on the bridge for almost an hour, with only a few necessary comments springing to life and quickly being hushed after cursory explanations or commands. When Ensign Kim received departmental updates regarding the repairs to the ship, Kathryn quickly downloaded them into a PADD and took off for her Ready Room. Meanwhile, Chakotay slumped back in his chair in relief.

The day tiptoed by with agonizing slowness, broken only by occasional reports from Engineering and one from the Doctor detailing the recovery of B'Elanna and Tuvok, who were expected back on-duty within the week. Kathryn had not emerged from her Ready Room, although Neelix had thoughtfully delivered lunch to her, and Chakotay wondered vaguely if the Doctor had a hand in that. Usually it would have been him forcing her to stop working for five minutes to eat something.

Five minutes prior to his shift ending, he received a PADD that Vorik had personally walked up to the bridge. After perusing its contents, Chakotay sighed. There was a new and potentially major malfunction in the warp core resulting from their encounter with the Borg. Major enough to possibly entail having to replace half of the dilithium in usage. He sighed again. Just another consequence of the deadly game they—she—had played.

After scanning the information, Chakotay looked up at Vorik, swearing he could detect worry behind the matter-of-factness of his eyes. "I'll take this report right to the captain," he assured him. Vorik nodded and headed back to the turbolift. Chakotay stood, rolling his neck and shoulders to relieve the stiffness of having just remained in essentially the same position for over five hours. He heard his joints crack and winced. He was certain that everyone on the bridge had heard the protests of his middle-aged body and glanced at Paris, expecting some type of acerbic remark. But, for once, Paris appeared oblivious, and, instead of gaining a momentary reprieve from his duty, Chakotay headed reluctantly towards the door of the Ready Room.

She answered the chime immediately, and he stepped in, feeling almost lightheaded and heavy with dread simultaneously. She was sitting at her desk with one fisted hand resting lightly on the tabletop and the other tapping commands into the raised console in front of her. She looked up briefly when he entered and then quickly shifted her gaze back to her work. But not before he saw that her eyes were watery and her nose was red. Her clenched hand held a very obviously used and crumpled tissue.

Chakotay mentally kicked himself and even considered doing it literally.

"What is it, Commander?" Pure command tone, not a hint of the emotion that was displayed so transparently on her face. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, setting the PADD on the desk.

"Ensign Vorik just delivered this to me. We may have a serious problem with the warp core," he said bluntly. She reached for the PADD and studied it for a moment. Then she briefly closed her eyes, shaking her head wearily.

"Is there anything else, Commander?" Her dismissal was painfully clear.

Yet he hesitated. Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, there is definitely something else.

I love you.

I need you.

I don't know how to live without you, Kathryn.

But I also don't know how to live _with you._

Of course, he couldn't say any of those things to her so he remained silent and quickly strode out of her Ready Room before his heart took his mouth hostage and any resulting casualties would be on his conscience.


	4. Chapter 4

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 4

"Is there anything else?" Kathryn inquired from her seat at the head of the conference table. No one spoke so she stood up. "Dismissed." The senior staff filed from the room, and the captain followed. From where he still sat, Chakotay could almost see the room exhale its tension as the crew left the morning briefing. Although nothing unusual had been reported at the meeting, and the problem with the warp core had thankfully been solved, the level of strain in the room had been incredible. He knew it was a direct reflection of the gulf between him and Kathryn.

"Captain, are you all right?" He heard Tom's concerned voice from the doorway. The pilot's hand was gripping Kathryn's arm, and he was studying her intently. Kathryn, wearing an obviously manufactured grin, was nodding.

"Yes, I just lost my balance for a moment. Thanks for catching me," she said wryly. Tom smiled in return, and the pair headed for the bridge.

Chakotay remained seated, wondering how long it would take anyone to notice that he hadn't arrived for his shift yet. At this point, would Kathryn even bother calling him on it? They had barely exchanged more than ten words over the past two days, and she had even taken to espressing her comments and questions to him in terse written messages rather than initiating verbal contact. Some part of him was grateful.

But he still hadn't slept since he had walked out of Sickbay that first night.

When he finally strode onto the bridge, he was startled to see Kathryn sitting in her chair. She had been making her presence scarce on the bridge, barricading herself in her Ready Room during her shifts. He sighed and wondered if he could muster an excuse to work in his office until she departed. Then again, he probably wouldn't even have to offer an excuse. He doubted she would publicly question his intentions anyway.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Chakotay focusing his eyes on the stars trailing by on the viewscreen, Kathryn fiddling with a PADD, shifting constantly in her seat. He wondered if his continued presence was making her uneasy—it wasn't like her to fidget unless she was deeply disturbed. Like that day when she left for the Borg cube. She had been slumped down in her chair, pulled into herself, and practically wringing her hands. _Enough_, he ordered himself harshly.

Maybe he _should_ retreat to his office.

But then Kathryn abruptly stood up.

"I'll be in my Ready Room." Something in her voice was not quite right, and Chakotay glanced at her, despite himself. She was deathly pale and seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"Captain," he said, beginning to rise and reach out for her.

And then she was falling, so quickly that he was powerless to stop it. Her head cracked against the edge of the console between their seats and the rest of her hit the floor with a resounding thump.

"Kathryn!" He was at her side in an instant, feeling the bile rising in his throat as he saw blood streaming from the left side of her face. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. "Kathryn, please. Can you hear me?" She didn't respond to the sound of his voice, and Chakotay looked up frantically, seeing Tom Paris already bounding from his seat at the Conn with a tricorder in his hand. He knelt next to the captain and scanned her, a worried frown creasing his forehead.

"Paris to the Doctor. Please prepare to receive an emergency transport. It's the captain." Eternal seconds passed before Kathryn's still form sparkled and faded from view. Chakotay turned to Paris with panicked eyes.

"What is it, Tom?" His voice was deliberately quiet.

"Her body is having a reaction to the remaining Borg implants," Tom replied flatly. "And _now_ she has a nasty concussion and cranial swelling." Chakotay swore to himself.

"She should never have-" he began, but Tom cut him off with an icy stare that would have rivaled one of Kathryn's.

"I think it's because she's exhausted, _Commander." _Chakotay didn't miss the careful emphasis on his rank. "She didn't even stay in Sickbay for twenty-four hours after returning from the Borg cube. And then she was back on duty several days before the Doctor's recommendations. Her body didn't have enough time to heal." There was something almost accusatory in the pilot's tone, and Chakotay bristled.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me, Mr. Paris?" Chakotay's voice was dangerously soft.

Tom continued to glare at him, and Chakotay saw something unfamiliar in the man's eyes. Loathing. It surprised him. He and Tom had never been the best of friends; in fact, they had begun their journey through the Delta Quadrant as undeclared enemies. But the anger, the _disdain_, had, if truth be told, all belonged to Chakotay. Tom had been insolent, brash but he had never seemed to harbor any overt resentment towards his former Maquis leader.

"In my office, Paris. Now." Chakotay straightened up from where the two had still been kneeling on the now empty patch of floor. As they stood, the bridge seemed wreathed in a tense silence. He and Tom had purposely kept their voices low, but perhaps they had been overheard anyway. But as they walked off the bridge, Chakotay suddenly realized with a sinking feeling that the tension, the silence, _the stares_, were all directed at _him._

The minute the doors to his office had closed, Chakotay whirled around and pinned Paris with a menacing look of his own.

"Why don't you go ahead and say whatever's on your mind, Paris? You have my permission to speak freely," he spit out. He stepped closer to the other man and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"That might not be such a good idea right now," Tom answered, his voice serious and determined.

"Afraid, Paris?" Chakotay raised his eyebrows. "Think you can't take me?" Tom's shoulders suddenly slumped, and the anger seemed to drain from his face.

"What is going on with you, Chakotay?" he asked with concern in his voice. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what?" Chakotay took a step closer to Tom.

"Like..like _this_." Tom seemed to be struggling for words. "Like you want to pick a fight with me! Like you don't care whether the captain lives or dies!" His voice rose on the last words.

"I beg your pardon?" Chakotay clenched his fists at his sides. "Who are you to say how I feel about Captain Janeway?"

"I'm your friend," Tom shot back, "and hers. If you really care about her, why have you been acting like she doesn't exist since she came back to the ship? You certainly wore your heart on your sleeve while she was over there! Now you've been avoiding her and ignoring her. If you speak to her at all, it's barely even civil. You've been a real jerk, Chakotay. And what are you doing standing around arguing with me? Why aren't you in Sickbay by her side like you usually are? "

Chakotay advanced yet again so his face was just inches from Tom's. "Let's get one thing straight, Paris. It is none of your business how I feel about the captain. It is none of your business how I treat her. And it is none of your business why I am not in Sickbay right now. Is that understood?" He was yelling and making no effort to rein in his emotions. Tom had stepped back almost imperceptibly when he had raised his voice, and the other man's apprehension made Chakotay feel almost giddy.

Then the door to the office slid open smoothly, and Tuvok stepped in with a grave expression on his face.

"Commander Chakotay," he said pointedly. "It would be prudent for you to step away from Lieutenant Paris. And perhaps to lower your voice. The entire bridge crew has been privy to your conversation." Chakotay turned from both of them, walked over to his desk, and slammed his hand down on the surface, startling a couple of stray PADDs that were stacked near the corner.

"Get out of my office. Both of you," he said quietly.

"Commander-" Tuvok began.

"Get out!" The words were shouted this time, and Chakotay didn't turn around again until the doors had hissed shut behind him. Then he walked slowly over to his desk, cradled his head in his arms, and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 5

Chakotay sat in his quarters in the dark. Part of him knew it would only take a simple command to illuminate the room, but he couldn't get past the weariness that had infiltrated his body to even move a muscle to speak.

Tom's words rang in his ears, his own thoughts and doubts spoken without hesitation. Who would have thought that one day _Tom_ would be the one telling _him_ the difference between right and wrong?

_I'm warning you. I won't let you cross that line again._ His own words to Kathryn from a year ago, dredged up to the surface of his memory by his aching conscience perhaps.

He hadn't just crossed the line. He had barreled right over it and left everything that he was, everything that he had become, in ruins behind him.

What had he done? _What was he doing?_

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay." Chakotay sighed. The Doctor was becoming as ill-timed as Tuvok when it came to interruptions. He reluctantly summoned his voice and answered the call.

"Chakotay here, Doctor."

"Commander, could you possibly come to Sickbay?" The Doctor sounded almost hesitant, which was certainly unusual for him.

"Of course, Doctor. I'm on my way." Chakotay straightened his uniform and smoothed his rumpled hair. There was nothing he could do about the circles under his eyes or the stricken expression he knew was pinching his face at the moment.

Chakotay strode into Sickbay, surprised to find all of the biobeds empty and the Doctor in his office.

"Doctor?" he said uncertainly. "Where's the captain?" The Doctor looked up from the console he was working on. His eyes held an unreadable expression.

"Ah, Commander," he said in greeting. "Nice of you to take the time to join me in Sickbay. I know you prefer that I deal with the captain without your assistance." His eyes might have been cryptic, but the expression in his words definitely wasn't unreadable. Chakotay caught himself before he sighed.

"Doctor," he said, with a hint of warning in his tone.

"Yes, well, I treated the captain and sent her back to her quarters with orders to rest. She is officially off duty for the next three days. This time there will be no reprieve or early release. Her body needs time to heal itself. I should never have released her in the first place." The Doctor's voice was stern but there was something beneath it that caused Chakotay to wonder.

"Why _did_ you let her leave Sickbay that night?" Chakotay attempted valiantly to keep the accusation out of his voice. The Doctor hesitated for a long moment, shifting his gaze to the side and even clearing his holographic throat uncomfortably.

"She was crying," he finally said in a very quiet voice.

"What?" Chakotay asked, confused.

"She was crying," the Doctor repeated, guilt laced throughout his voice. "I don't know what happened. When I left she was sleeping soundly, and then a few hours later, she activated my program and demanded that I release her from Sickbay. After I called you, she just…broke. In seven years, I have never seen her like that. She was crying and begging me to let her go back to her quarters so she could be alone. I never thought I would see the day that Captain Janeway begged for anything." Chakotay felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. He had to get away. _Now._ With a last, panicked look at the Doctor, he turned and half-ran out of Sickbay, praying he wouldn't run into anyone on the way to his quarters.

Back in his room, he sat down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He remained in that position for several long moments and then slowly got up. He walked over to his dresser and carefully removed his medicine bundle from the top drawer.

He spread the contents out on the floor and front of him, laying one hand on the akoonah and clutching the river stone tightly in the other.

"A-koo-chee-moya. We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers. We are far from the bones of my people. But I ask on this day of sorrow and uncertainty that the wisdom of my father might find me and guide me in this place."

Chakotay slowly opened his eyes and found himself gazing into the dark yet familiar forest around him.

"Father? Are you here?" He felt his throat constricting with emotion.

"I am here, Chakotay." Kolopak's voice was gentle. He was sitting calmly before a campfire, the trees casting shadows over his face. Chakotay walked over to him and joined him on the ground. A slight smile graced his father's lips as he looked at his son, and Chakotay felt himself losing his tenuous grasp on his emotions.

"Father," he said hoarsely. Then he didn't know what to say. There were too many things that needed to be said, and too many things that he didn't want to say at all. He dropped his head and stared at the ground, suddenly afraid to meet his father's gaze.

"It is her again," Kolopak said knowingly. "The one you come to me about so often."

"Yes," he admitted. "It is her."

"What has happened? Is she safe?"

A bitter chuckle escaped from Chakotay's throat. "For the moment."

The forest was silent.

"Father, I don't know what to do. Please help me." Chakotay felt the tears slipping from his eyes.

"Tell me what you are feeling, Chakotay," Kolopak requested.

Chakotay closed his eyes in despair, shaking his head.

"That's the problem," he finally said. "How she makes me feel. How she hurts me over and over again. How I forgive her and go on. How I love her knowing that she can't—she won't—love me back in the same way. How I give her everything that I am, and she turns her back on me the moment things get hard. How I try to take care of her, try to keep her safe from herself and from everything we are facing out here in the Delta Quadrant. But she doesn't let me. So I worry about her and thank the Spirits every time she returns to me safely." He stopped, wiping the tears from his face.

"I can't allow her to keep doing this to me. I don't even know who I am anymore except in relation to how she makes me feel," he burst out, his eyes pleading with his father to tell him that what he wanted to do was the right thing.

"Maybe it is not about you, my son," Kolopak answered quietly, his face placid but firm.

For a moment, the anger crashed over Chakotay in monumental waves, almost toppling him with their intensity. He felt his heart crushed with their force. And then, just as suddenly as they had descended, they were gone. And the first tendrils of peace reached out to brush their fingers against his soul. He breathed deeply, unexpectedly weary, cradling his head in his hands.

Kolopak touched his shoulder, and Chakotay looked up into his eyes that now sung with approval. His father nodded.

"Some people are called upon to sacrifice more than others, Chakotay," he said softly.

"Why?"

"You tell me." Kolopak's calm reply.

Chakotay smiled ruefully. He _knew_, he understood, perhaps even more than his father did.

"Is she worth it, son?" Quiet words.

"Always," Chakotay whispered. And then the vision was over, and he came back to consciousness sitting cross-legged on the floor of his quarters with an aching heart and unchecked tears streaming down his face.


	6. Chapter 6

To Feel So Much

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 6

Chakotay lay sprawled across his bed, looking up at the plain grey ceiling and thinking about New Earth. This time it made him smile through his tears. He knew it was time to go to her so he changed into casual clothes, replicated a single pale pink rose, and headed next door to her quarters. He stood uncertainly in front of her door for what seemed like half of his lifetime before eventually lifting a trembling hand to activate the chime.

She answered the door in her pajamas with her hair tucked behind her ears, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other. Chakotay thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. When she realized it was him, a startled expression crossed her face, and she stood before him silently for several long moments. When she spoke, her voice was calm.

"Come in, Commander," she said broadly, sweeping her hand in the direction of the living room area. She turned away from him and walked over to curl up with the pillow and blanket that were lying on one end of her couch. He stepped forward just enough for the door to register his absence but then stayed where he was, simply watching her, wondering what she was thinking. He knew his eyes were watery, and his nose was red. He still held one hand protectively behind his back, clutching at the rose with unsure fingers.

"Kathryn," he finally said, his voice unsteady. To his surprise, she smiled at him.

"You look like a puppy who disobeyed his owner and is awaiting punishment," she said in an amused voice. He flinched, her uncharacteristic levity in the situation bruising his raw nerves. Was this her revenge for his distance? She was going to pretend like he didn't matter to her at all?

"Come here, Chakotay." He hesitated. Then she held her arms out to him.

Déjà vu. He winced.

"Please."

Not again, his heart whispered to him. I can't do this scene again.

With sudden determination, he walked quickly over to her, sat down on the couch, and threw his arms around her, holding her more tightly than he had ever thought possible. The rose fell from his fingers and hit the floor, but he didn't care. The feel of her strong arms around him blocked out every other thought and fear from his mind and brought him back to peace. Brought him finally, fully_,_ back to himself. He felt himself struggle for a moment, and then he was crying, sobbing against her shoulder, while her fingers tangled with his hair and her lips brushed against his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes. He felt the wetness of her own tears against his face, knew that she was crying with him, and for so many reasons.

"Kathryn, you don't have to do this," he finally managed to say when he could breathe well enough to speak. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve _you." _

"I need this too, Chakotay," she murmured against his ear, cradling him more intensely. And so they held each other, comforted each other, cried together, and finally, when they were both so weary they could barely sit up, they broke apart and just sat on the couch, talking in low voices. Kathryn told him about her experiences on the Borg ship. He told her about his experiences on Voyager while she was gone. They spoke of the emotional impact of what had happened. They talked until their voices were hoarse, and then he said the one thing he knew he still had to say.

"I don't hate you, Kathryn," he whispered.

"Chakotay, promise me something." Kathryn's voice was huskier than usual.

"Anything," he said, cradling her hands in his.

"If you are ever angry with me or frustrated or whatever…please, just talk to me. Or write me a letter. Or shoot me with a phaser." She cracked a slight smile at that one, then seemed to struggle with her emotions over the next words. "Just don't ever...don't ever say that to me again." Tears welled in her eyes.

Chakotay dropped his head, feeling the heat of his shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"I know I'm not that easy to talk to sometimes," she admitted. "I don't always listen very well. And I tend to be a bit…stubborn…on occasion." He raised his eyebrows, and this time she laughed out loud. "Okay, I'm stubborn on all occasions. So maybe a phaser would be the better idea." She slid closer to him on the couch, cupped his face in her hands, and leaned her forehead against his, closing her eyes and sighing. "I need you, Chakotay. I need _us_."

She looked solemnly into his eyes from close range, and he could see the individual tears clinging to each eyelash, and he was overwhelmed suddenly by the immensity of his love for this woman. The sweet intensity of the emotions surged over him, and suddenly he was having trouble breathing on his own. He could never stop loving her. She had already consumed his heart to the point that it no longer beat on his command alone. It would be like trying to extinguish a wildfire. If he built up the banks of earth, she would simply blaze right through his firewalls and illuminate his heart instead.

And he didn't know if he had ever felt such pure joy in his life, but she had brought him to it. Every part of him loved Kathryn Janeway.

Loved that she made him feel _so much_.

The End


End file.
